Don't Make Me Kill You
by darthluna01
Summary: AU Scenarios from the life of the "Vader" family, in which Vader's patience, fatherly worth, and sanity will be tested. Severely. -- "LUKE! Drink your blue milk - don't make me kill you!" And not to mention his children's.
1. Wake Up Call

A/N: This is/was my first fanfic, essentially my baby. Thanks to Purple who gave me the idea. Warning for exaggerated "Vader" behavior due to a purposefully comedic (or hopefully comedic) plotline.

* * *

Darth Vader was not a happy Sith Lord. He was being woken up at three o'clock in the morning by those bantha fodders that everyone called babies. Even worse, they were his babies and it was his turn to go and _comfort _them.

He stormed angrily over to Luke's crib hearing the wailing become louder and louder with each step. The baby lay awake in his crib, howling at the top of his lungs. His father stood next to the crib,

_"_What do you want at this forsaken hour?"

The wailing continued.

Vader was not a patient or understanding Sith Lord - Mustafar had made him a little grouchy. He used a testy and more commanding tone that could make an Imperial Admiral wet his drawers: "Luke, answer me...or be destroyed!"

Luke's wailing ceased for a moment as he looked at the shiny black-clad figure that hovered above. The wet blue eyes blinked twice, but then an even louder repercussion began.

"Don't make me kill you!"

Luke was pushing it. Vader raised him out of the crib and bellowed with all the might his respirator could muster,

"DON'T MAKE ME KILL YOU!"

He was just about to shake the baby when—"Ani! You never shake a baby!"

Padmé stepped in, and snatched her son away from her deranged husband. She smelled his diaper and briskly removed it to reveal horrendously smelly contents. Luke was silent again, lying contentedly before his mother on the changing table.

Padmé spoke groggily as she replaced the diaper, "Ani, you can't expect little Luke to answer back. He can't speak yet, remember? You must be patient."

"Sith Lords are not patient, my angel. I am a Dark Lord of the Sith. Ergot, I am not patient. It's against our nature."

His wife rolled her eyes and mumbled, "I doubt that 'Don't make me kill you' will really help either."

"I heard that! DON'T MAKE ME KILL YOU!"

The former queen cocked a skeptical brow and sighed wearily to her husband, "Anakin. You have your responsibilities, and I have mine. I know it's hard for you, and you'll have a long day tomorrow. Go to bed."

Before complying, Vader looked at Luke and said, "I love you son, but don't make me kill you." He shuffled slowly to bed, sure that if ever he was to get peace, it wouldn't be for another seventeen years when his children would leave his property to live independently.

Padmé rolled her eyes yet again with amusement and chagrin.


	2. Bath Time

As of late, Padmé had contracted a common cold, which was deemed to run its course by all the doctors in Coruscant that had not yet been murdered by a certain Sith Lord. Which, in turn, left the responsibility of her year-old children to her, ah, temperate husband, while Padmé was in the care of another of his creations - Threepio.

Thus it came to this conclusion:

"Leia! Stop slobbering on Daddy's lightsaber! You don't want me to come over there, trust me! Don't make me KILL you!"

The infant troublemaker happily ignored her father, blatantly sucking on her hand and waving Darth's lightsaber as high as she could. Vader could only attempt a sigh through his respirator in reply.

"Luke, finish your blue milk. I don't have time to take on any rebellion." Dipping the miniature spoon into a cup of blended baby victuals, he continued, "Make way for the TIE fighter! Open up...Luke?...Open your mouth! This is your breakfast and I will not waste food -- eat it!"

When the persistent son refused, Vader, being the ever lovable Vader, blew a gundark. "Luke, eat this food! Obey me--or suffer the consequences! Don't make me _kill _you!"

At this the child hesitated, his nose wrinkling in distaste, among other things. Suddenly -- "_Choo_!" Large specks of pureed fruit cascaded upon the small stand's table and stained Luke's previously spotless shirt. Vader yelled in frustration as he surveyed the damage.

"I have forewarned you...now you must both suffer the _consequences_!"

Each twin seemed to be competing on whose eyes got wider, as their highly irritable father snatched them off to the refresher. "It is time. . . for a bath!"

* * *

Darth stripped off Luke's dirty onesie and Leia's saliva-stained dress as the miniature tub filled with "Luke-warm" water, the preferred temperature.

After the thermometer had assured the water warm enough, dry soap flakes were added to produce suds. Unfortunately, the Sith had added too many flakes, and the bubbles spread everywhere around the refresher. Easily amused by the mass of bubbles, Luke and Leia plopped right into the tub. Their father took advantage of this distraction, utilizing a giant loofa sponge to scrub diligently at their puny bodies.

In fact, the twins were scrubbed so hard that their skin acquired a rosy tinge, looking much like a large-spread rash. Regardless, Vader scrubbed until all the bubbles had dissipated. In the loss of her temporary toy, Leia began to cry, her soft brown eyes welling up in salty tears and her powerful lungs beating out a haphazard tempo.

Her father, unable to stomach the crying, roughly lifted his daughter and used one of Padmé's methods to soothe the child.

_Ho-pah, ho-pah, ho-pah_

However, Vader learned that producing "shh" sounds was hard with a respirator. The "shh" came out odd and grainy, escalating the baby's sobs with its harsh quality. Typically, the former Anakin Skywalker lost his patience.

"Tell me. . . _what _is it?" He reached out with the Force to his daughter, but to no avail. All he sensed was a general discomfort which he could not understand.

The crying made his head throb, and he began to grit his teeth in frustration. "Stop crying! DON'T MAKE ME KILL YOU!"

Tears spilled out silently from the soft brown eyes and her lower lip trembled dangerously. Satisfied, the Sith picked her up and bounced her around before--

He was covered in slobber and Leia's breakfast. Revolted with the slimy white goo, Vader sat back onto the toilet in the 'fresher and angrily swatted the offending matter upon the floor. In the midst of the chaos, Luke crawled covertly out of the tub and through the door, his small red tush swagging gently as he crawled. Screaming for Threepio, Darth hadn't even noticed.


	3. Afternoon Naps of a Dark Side Proportion

Vader was enraged, his emotions just as gruesome as the permanent facial expression of his mask, while he embarked on a search for his unruly male spawn.

After the chaotic scene that was the refresher, he had unsuccessfully attempted to wipe Leia's vomit off his face mask and suit. He eventually had to go through a painstakingly thorough controlled shower, all the while muttering _"don't make me kill you"_s under his breath.

Meanwhile, Padmé had washed Leia and put her to sleep before preparing lunch and giving her husband a lecture. She emphasized that children needed patience, care and -er- _positive _attention. While he listened in a neutral state of boredom, he blatedly realized that his son was missing. After that, he also realized that his son had run away of his own accord amongst the chaos.

Typically, his wrath was expressed in an extremely brief "_don't make me kill you" _episode.

In a frenzy, the mad Sith rushed out of the room impulsively and reached out with his Force senses. _Luke, _he thought, _come back...it is useless to resist! You know you want your mother's wookiee-ookies. I mean, they _have_ got chocolate. What more can I say?_

The father's bond with his son was strong enough to sense the profusely negative reply. Luke was such a troublemaker. A real Rebel, some might say.

But it was all Darth needed to instigate a hallway search. Vader loped slowly into the hallway of the large building and cooed (as best as he could, considering the respirtor and face mask), "Luke! Luke! Don't make Father kill you! You must come out now for sweets and sleep!"

The "cooing" was partly effective, judging from the ecstatic giggles of a nearby table. _"Ha!" _The Sith closed in on the fixture as if it were another military target. "I've got you now!"

Luke was awkwardly naked, but he waddled down the hall, his body jiggling from the odd sensations of walking. Vader could have levitated his son back to him with ease, but Luke needed to be taught discipline. _"_Luke! I am your father, don't make me_ destroy_ you! Accept your _destiny_!"

Luke ceased his vigorous waddling, to turn and face the aforementioned Darth. "Luke! Join me, and we can rule the galaxy together as father and son! It is your Destiny! Come to the Dark Side! We've got fresh wookiee-ookies!"

Luke persistently shook his head and his blue eyes widened. "Luke! I am your father! It is your DESTINY!! DON'T make me KILL YOU!!"

At this Luke spun around, and broke into a full-blown crawl across the hall. Seeing his melodramatic plan botched, Vader resumed plan B and used the Force to his advantage. Ah, the bliss of raising children.

--

Padme took the last batch of wookiee-ookies from the baker, set the dishes aside for later, and washed her hands. She heard the _hiss_ from the door of their apartment, indicating that Luke had been found, and her husband would have the responsibility of putting him to bed for an afternoon kip.

She smiled at the ridiculous image of the father and son, happy to find a semi-peaceful moment after eight months of pure stress. Having her family was worse than politics. Padme, overcome with the urge to leave the twins in the hands of her husband, she felt a certain magnetism to reach for her speeder keys.

Once the black cape vanished behind another corridor, Padme grabbed her bag and left before anything could be said.


	4. Porridge Paranoia

Vader was enraged, his emotions just as gruesome as the permanent facial expression of his mask, while he embarked on a search for his unruly male spawn.

After the chaotic scene that was the refresher, he had unsuccessfully attempted to wipe Leia's vomit off his face mask and suit. He eventually had to go through a painstakingly thorough, oxygen-controlled shower, all the while muttering _"don't make me kill you"_s under his breath.

Meanwhile, Padmé took it upon her ill self to wash Leia and put her to sleep before preparing lunch and giving her husband a lecture. She emphasized that children needed patience, care and -er-_positive _attention. While he listened in a neutral state of boredom, he blatedly realized that his son was missing. After that, he also realized that his son had run away of his own accord amongst the chaos.

As per usual, his wrath was expressed in an extremely brief "_don't make me kill you" _episode.

In a frenzy, the mad Sith rushed out of the room impulsively and reached out with his Force senses. _Luke, _he thought, _come back...it is useless to resist! You know you want your mother's wookiee-ookies. I mean, they _have_ got chocolate. What more can I say?_

The father's bond with his son was strong enough to sense the profusely negative reply. Luke was such a troublemaker. A real Rebel, some might say. Or maybe it was just in his genes. But the stubborn defiance against rules definitely came from his mother's side.

Yet it was all Darth needed to instigate a hallway search. Vader loped slowly into the hallway of the large building and cooed (as best as he could, considering the respirtor and face mask), "Luke! Luke! Don't make Father kill you! You must come out now for sweets and sleep!"

The "cooing" was partly effective, judging from the ecstatic giggles of a nearby table. _"Ha!" _The Sith closed in on the fixture as if it were another military target. "I've got you now!"

Luke was awkwardly naked, but he waddled down the hall, his body jiggling from the odd sensations of walking. Vader could have levitated his son back to him with ease, but Luke needed to be taught some discipline; needed to be able to return of his own accord, and to be respectful. _"_Luke! I am your father, don't make me_ destroy_ you! Accept your _destiny_!"

Luke ceased his vigorous waddling, to turn and face the aforementioned Darth. "Luke! Join me, and we can rule the galaxy together as father and son! It is your destiny! Come to the Dark Side! We've got fresh wookiee-ookies!"

Luke persistently shook his head and his blue eyes widened. "Luke! I _am_ your father! It is your _destiny!_ Don't make me _kill you_!"

At this Luke spun around, and broke into a full-blown crawl across the hall. Seeing his melodramatic plan botched, Vader resumed plan B and used the Force to his conventional advantage. Ah, the bliss of raising children.

* * *

Padmé took the last batch of wookiee-ookies from the baker, set the dishes aside for later, and washed her hands. She heard the _hiss_ from the door of their apartment, indicating that Luke had been found, and that her husband would have the responsibility of putting him to bed for an afternoon kip.

She smiled at the ridiculous image of the father and son, happy to find a semi-peaceful moment after eight months of pure stress. Keeping her family environment peaceful was worse than politics. Padmé, overcome with the urge to leave the twins in the hands of her husband, felt a certain magnetism to reach for her speeder keys. Getting away for a while would be good for her.

Once the black cape vanished behind another corridor, Padmé grabbed her bag and left before anything could be said.


	5. Sith Supper Solutions

Darth labored over a hot cooker, attempting to make pancakes and eggs for dinner, all the while silently cursing Jedi and his currently malfunctioning protocol droid. The attempt for supper was not going well. Strewn across the floor were piles of Tatooine Fine Sand brand flour, synthetic measuring spoons, and broken eggs. In contrast to their habitually disgruntled father, twins Luke and Leia were greatly benefitting from the current scenario.

"Luke! Leia! Get OUT of the kitchen! Don't make me KILL you!"

As Vader leaned down to remove his children, the mass (lumpy) amount of pancake batter atop the stove sizzled dangerously and spewed across the kitchen. Luke giggled adorably as pancake batter was thrown onto his father's helmet.

Darth bellowed in anger and frustration to no one in particular on account of the uncooked pancake splattered across his freshly polished helmet."Aargh! Don't make me KILL YOU!"

As Vader staggered to find a clean towel, a carton of eopie eggs were dismantled from the counter by your's truly. Beige and brown-flecked yolks were added to the cooking chaos on the floor and both twins broke out in tumultuous laughter.

"Don't make me KILL YOU!" exclaimed Vader, furious. He levitated the twins back to their rooms and locked the door in the name of sanity.

Vader then proceeded to look at the pans assembled on the stove. One pan contained a heap of partly frozen hash browns, ready to be cooked; the second pan held a goupy mess of clotted pancake batter; the third burner however, had a curvy, distorted glob of blue atop it that slightly resembled the bowl which Darth had whipped the pancake batter in. He had finally reached his "boiling point."

"Padme, my lovely! Give me the comm and the number for the Chinese Take-out!"

"Didn't you tell me that _you_ making pancakes for dinner?" replied his wife, with a stifled laughter. Nevertheless, she brought him the machine and number guide.

Darth dialed the number and heard the flat tone ring twice until droid waiter answered. He thought being Palpatine's apprentice was supposed to get him out of stupid situations like this. He would have to talk to his Master about that.

_"Dexter Diner, I am TC-72, How may I help you?"_

Darth relayed his order to the droid and was told that it would be delivered shortly.

--

The delivery droid arrived just under the 30 minute limit, but its visit was prolonged when the customer discovered onions in one of the dishes.

"Don't make me _kill you_, droid! I told you to HOLD THE ONIONS! Don't make me report you to your manager!"

Flustered, it hastily apologized and came back several minutes later with the right order. It hovered by the door, expecting tip but was disappointed upon recieving only 2 credits. Halfway down the hall, it murmured, "What a bad tip..." which was follow by:

"WHAT? Don't make me KILL YOU! You _pitiful_ pile of SPARE PARTS!" which was also followed by the droid's hasty departure to Yavin. Dexter Jettster had to endure over half hour of ranting from the Dark Lord, and a new set of regulations for service droids were enabled throughout the Empire. Shop owners across the galaxy were surprised to find TC protocols on the list of contraband technology. . .


	6. Dere Yet?

**A/N: I've finally returned to this story, and hope it's acceptable.**

Two and a half years of partially tranquil life had passed by the Skywalker family in a rush of firsts. First teeth, first words, first walks and first planets to blow up, enslave or take over. Things were going just swimmingly for our favorite villain and his family, but the winter furlough approached with anticipation and dread. It was time to finally settle down for a while and take a break. but whether it would cause more or less stress was yet to be seen.

--

Snow blanketed over the high roofs of Coruscant, bringing a chill to Vader's spine. Even though he _had _been on the planet for many years, he still wasn't used to all the precipitation. Precipitation was hard to come by, however, because of the many filters used for the Coruscanti air. But today the filters were half-off duty for festival week; air would still be filtered good enough to breathe through. No more, no less.

Today the little family would be departing for Naboo, and interesting venture, one that Padme had been eager to embark on for some time and had finally persuaded her husband into accepting. For about the umpteenth time that day, his wife went over the baggage call.

"Portable oxygen tank, water-durable suit and mask, holocam, gift for my mother--"

"Check, check, check, check and check! We've gone through this list so many times! Don't make me kill that list of yours!"

Padmé clicked her tongue reprovingly. "Tsk, tsk, Anakin. It's a necessary part in a husband's life when the wife gets to make the orders about the house. Didn't you ever learn these things?"

He rolled his eyes, for once thankful that the mask covered his face. Wordlessly he snatched the list and checked off all the items. "There," he said, thrusting it in her direction, "take it!"

"There's no need to be snappish, I'm just double-checking. Old habits are hard to break of course."

Once again, Vader was glad of the mask. Before his wife could issue any more orders, Threepio slowly padded toward them with the twins in tow, going on about rules of etiquette and what not to do. Luke blatantly disregarded the lecture by sticking his thin index finger straight up his nose, extracting it a moment later covered in a sticky green booger.

"Eww...Momma, Luke's pickin' his dose!" Leia squealed in disgust. In response, Luke wiped the glob of greenish goo onto his sister's clean white pinafore and an outright brawl began.

Using her superior Force skills, Leia propelled her brother a clean yard across the room, at which he responded to in equal wrath. With his own unpolished abilities, the blond little three year old boy sent a ripple of strong wind to trip his sister and the golden droid from beneath the floor. Furious, Vader began to intercede but was tripped up by the Force wave himself.

"Don't make me _kill _you! Argh, I command you to stop, now! Insolent fool..." the disconsolate father grumbled angrily.

_"Now who's the more foolish? The fool, or the fool who follows him?"_

"What in Mustafar was that?" Vader swore he heard Kenobi's voice.

"What's what?"

"Didn't you hear that...just now?" No, that couldn't be possible. He had killed Kenobi, on Mustafar, right after his own body had endured the fire.

"Love, are you all right?" His wife put a tender hand on the front of his mask, probably thinking him mad.

This was annoying. First, he hears Kenobi in a delusion and then his wife starts to fall into 'mother-mode'. "I'm fine - I'm a Sith. Sith don't need attending to!" he snapped, lifting himself off the ground and roughly taking his miscreant children by the hand and practically dragging them into the craft.

Once he was comfortable in the cushioned seat, Luke asked, "Daddy, we dere yet?"

Vader was between laughing or banging his head on the wall. Yet he did neither, remembering his promise to behave. "No, son. We will not arrive on Naboo for some time."

"Oh. Okay." He wiggled like a worm and lay down. His father thought he might be taking a nap.

He was proven wrong. After ten minutes, the boy sat up and asked, "Dere yet?"

Vader clenched his hand in a fist, but released it to answer calmly, "No. We will not be there for much, _much, _longer. Two hours at most."

"We dere yet?"

It would not be a joyful ride.

--

"Are we dere yet, daddy?" queried Luke, for at least the hundredth time.

_One, two, three, breathe..._"No, my son. We are not there yet. If you ask me, ONE MORE TIME: DON'T--"

"Okay, daddy." The little blond boy in blue smiled, and swung his feet back and forth contentedly. That only seemed to stun Vader and make him angrier. Thus, the light above his son's head blinked out and shattered.

"Anakin! How many times have I politely asked you _not _to do that?" Padmé demanded.

"I can't help it, _my love. _The boy is plainly just overly obnoxious! Is there anything to be done about it?" Vader replied, attempting to control his anger.

"Maybe he'd be less _obnoxious, _if he had some amusement other than sitting on a ship with nothing to do! Why don't you try raising two children, twins for that matter, and take care of _every single detail_!"

He was, suffice it to say, affronted. "Oh, really? Well, why don't you take over as dictator everyday, trying to manage all these idiot sentients who can't just do what they're told! It isn't that easy, you know!"

His wife ground her teeth and puffed air from her nose quite dangerously. After doing this for a few tense minutes, she spoke again with her cool politician's air. "All right, Anakin. If you think it's so easy, why don't you go with Luke to the cargo and get him something to play with?"

_There she goes again with her politician's words. _"I never said it was easy. Come son, we're going to go and get you a plaything. And _don't _make me _kill _you if you ask me that same question one more time."

As the father took his small tot down the hall, Padmé heard him say sweetly, "What queshion, daddy? You mean, 'are we dere yet?'"

A strangled howl echoed through the whole ship, and the craft shook roughly. The plastic cup she had been drinking out of crinkled into a small ball and the lights went completely out. S_ome vacation..._


	7. Meeting With The InLaws

The clean air of Naboo greeted the Vader family. The man of the family strode ahead, mentally cursing Luke for asking the same question during the entire trip, annoyed at Padmé for being so calm about everything, and slightly irritated at Leia. . . because he could.

"Anakin, wait," Padmé called, trying to urge Leia down the ramp.

"I've waited for two weeks, Padmé." He grated out, simply using the Force for Leia to catch up with him.

"I know. You must be calm here. My parents are looking forward to seeing you." Padmé's abrupt subject change did not work on Vader.

"You know that to be false, my lovely. They fear me," he responded somewhat smugly. Even though he might not have had to wear the black suit for much longer, he definitely would keep wearing it in public as a fear factor.

"They do not," Padmé diverted. "They. . . didn't agree with me when they found out about our marriage; they simply don't like you as much as--anymore." She quickly corrected her error - she had just been about to say 'as much as when you were a Jedi.'

"They fear me." Vader repeated, ignoring the slight slip.

"Mama, are we dere yet?" Luke asked, observing his surroundings, the pure blue eyes wide with excitement as he spotted the vegetation.

Vader growled in annoyance, but fortunately, nothing broke. Despite her motherly patience, Padmé was also beginning to become irritated with that question.

"_Don't _make me _kill _you!" Vader strode even farther ahead, putting at least ten feet between him and his family. It was time to get this over with.

He rang the door.

* * *

"Don't make me _kill _you!"

All at the dining table, who had previously been either eating or yelling, turned to look at their malcontent in-law. Vader addressed his nieces, who had been squabbling over who-knows-what the whole day. The most popular subjects for nexu fights in particular were a boy by the name of "Chad," a ball dress that had been repeatedly stolen and reclaimed, and last but not least, who was more attractive.

The Sith Lord had been trying to take his wife's advice. But as much as he hated to take a Jedi's advice, what Yoda had said was true: Do or do not; there is no try.

"I have been listening to your incessantly infernal bickering and bemoaning for the past five hours - _shut it and grow up for Force's sake!"_

Ryoo, the elder of the two sisters, cowered under the cold black stare of Vader's mask. Her mouth was pursed like she had smelled rancid Gungan, and it stayed that way through the rest of the meal.

Surprisingly, Pooja spoke up, glaring back in his direction.

"What's _your _problem?"

Sola, who was already thoroughly embarrassed, annoyed and just the slightest bit afraid of her brother-in-law, reprimanded her youngest sharply. "Pooja! Do not talk to your uncle like that."

"Why not?" Her daughter answered back defiantly. "Just because he's Palpatine's most powerful destruction machine doesn't mean I have to bow down and give my praises!"

From there, mother and daughter began fighting until the whole family, excluding the twins and Vader, joined in on the "conversation." Once again, Vader interceded the squabble in an attempt to control his anger and quite possibly, his sanity.

_"What_ is_ wrong_ with you_ people_?!"

And once again, he gained their full attention.

"You are _all _worse than four Toydarians negotiating!"

His wife cleared her throat in a politician-esque manner. "What Anakin is trying to say, _hem_, is that we should discuss something everyone can agree on; this is the dinner table, not the Senate chamber."

When Pooja laughed, and her grandparents sighed in relief. Finally, there was quiet, and the only noises were the soft scrapings of plates and utensils. At least until...

Luke opened his mouth:

"Are--"

"DON'T MAKE ME KILL YOU, SON!"

_One evening down, nine to go._

* * *

A/N: Much thanks to my beta, Winterluna, who basically wrote the first section. (I changed some of the wording and added a sentence or two.)


	8. Setting Out On Another Adventure

**A/N: I think, at least for this story, that it is safe for me to refer to Darth Vader as "Anakin," being that they are the Vader family. Anakin Vader, Padme Vader, etc.**

The group of Vader-Naberries decided it was best, for all their sakes, just to retire and begin again tomorrow. The Dark Lord himself thought this was quite a good plan, seeing as he couldn't stand his in-law's bickering any more than Luke's talking. Meaning that it was the ultimate strain to spend more than a half hour with either.

Vader breathed in relief as his black boot crossed the line between the bedroom and the hall. Padme was following several paces behind, a tired, yet similarly relieved, manner in her walk. With satisfaction, the Sith heard his wife slam the door shut.

"They didn't seem this insane six years ago."

Padme glared at him, and he recoiled slightly. Even as the second most powerful man in the galaxy, Vader could still be intimidated by his wife. It was a weakness he was attempting to work on, but thus far, he hadn't perfected any defenses against her supernaturally influential gestures.

"This is what teen parenting has done to my family. I think Pooja and Ryoo are worse than Sola and I ever were. If I could, I would enjoy muting more than at least half of it out. _But,"_ she cautioned, sensing her husband's relief, "don't get your hopes up, Anakin. We are staying for the full ten days! Tomorrow, I've scheduled a picnic, and you will be civil."

The couple looked at each other for several moments, until Padme conceded to saying, "Well, unless the fights get physical. Or deafening to the point that Luke is bothered."

Anakin smirked under the helmet. His son could tolerate anything below ninety decibels. Leia, on the other hand, couldn't handle not throwing a tantrum if the volume exceeded sixty-five. She had quite a noisy brother to deal with.

He soon heard the noises of his wife getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth and fussing with her elaborate wardrobe in the closet. On the contrary, he simply removed his boots and propped several pillows to the spot where his head -helmet, that is- would rest.

As Padme slipped into the sheets, she acknowledged his strange outfit as she did every night he had worn it to bed.

"One year, seven months, and fourteen days until you get to take it off permanently. I can't wait to see your face again."

The oxygen-controlled suit and helmet were only temporary, according to Palpatine and the past six or so doctors he had had. Because of his extensive injuries on that cursed volcano that the HoloNet called a planet, and the lightsaber duel with Kenobi, Anakin had been prescribed the strange black ensemble in order to let the second and third degree burns heal, along with the multiple lightsaber scars he obtained from his former Master's spinning blade.

Though the armor did have some positive sides to it, Anakin was very glad that his time in it would soon end. Of course, he had often thought he might still wear it to work, but it was a subject he still needed to think about without the assistance of his wife. Furthermore, Anakin would be ten times even happier to resume marital relations with his ravishing wife once the suit was off. He only hoped that he would be in tip-top looking shape after it was removed.

Combing over these thoughts once again, Anakin felt pressure on his head as Padme kissed the side of the helmet goodnight. She had thus far gotten used to it, he suspected.

Sleep began to cloud his own senses, and he felt the worries of his crazed family fade into a peaceful darkness.

* * *

An unbearable light was shining through his optical receptors. It was blinding, mostly because it came through in a reddish hue. He was beginning to hate that color.

"ARGH! What is it?"

Padme was pulling open the drapes. She was dressed in lightweight, casual attire. "Morning. Mid-morning, to be exact. Even as a Sith, even in your suit, you sleep like a bantha. Late and snoring."

"I resent that! Don't make--"

"Yes, yes, I know. Why don't you -er- freshen up? Better yet, gather the twins and then we can proceed with the nice day I planned."

Grumbling mutinous things under his breath such as "don't make me kill, kids, Dark Side, cursed Jedi, insane, and in-laws," the Dark Lord did indeed enter the adjacent room of his children. Unusual as they were, Luke and Leia were already awake and playing. Consequently, they were also making a mess.

Muttering his favorite phrase to himself once more, Vader then barked, "Luke! Leia! Clean this mess now!"

Whiny protests suddenly filled the air. With a masterful air, he countered it by bellowing, "DON'T make me KILL you! Toys do not concern me, twins! I want this cleaned!"

He left, apparently triumphant as the children set about tidying up. Little did he know that they were quietly communicating with each other, planning sweet revenge.


	9. Awkward Picnic, Going AWOL

It was an awkward trek, to say the least. When Vader had last visited this place, he had been young, naïve, whole… and to be honest, it had much more appeal before he had decided to become a "family man." Now the herd animals seemed to mock him with their lazy rolling in the grass. He was certain that some of them were mating out in the distance, just to mock his current state and the fact that this outing involved in-laws. There was no better birth-control mechanism, just as there was no better conversation killer.

The children had behaved well, almost eerily, after he had reprimanded them in their room, and that was one small consolation to Vader's day. For immediately after, his wife's fool kin had also approached him in the hallway with a barrage of invasive questions about his suit. He had responded in kind.

"Don't make me kill you." They left in a matter of minutes, forgetting about that whole swimming idea.

To top off the irritation, his nieces were bickering again like nexus with a single piece of prey.

"If you continue to yammer on at this pace, I fear I will be forced to call on the 501st. The Emperor cannot blame me for my actions."

"Anakin," Padme said under her breath, elbowing him.

"Oh yeah, I'd like to see that!"

"Don't make me _kill _you," Vader said. He whipped around and pointed a very angry finger into his niece's face, causing her to levitate above the ground by a few feet.

"MOM!" she screamed.

"Padmé, kindly restrain your husband."

"Mom!"

"No, angel. I have had enough. I—WHERE ARE THE TWINS?"

Vader dropped his concentration, causing Pooja to fall unceremoniously to the ground on her backside. As luck (or the Force) would have it, the area was soft with Nubian flora. Still, no one was paying much attention to where the teenager landed as the levels of crazy multiplied in the search for the two young twins.

Vader cursed something that only his wife heard; Padmé cleared her throat loudly and nudged her husband again. Ignoring the jab, he explained: "I cannot sense them nearby at all. Together, they are too powerful and mischievous. If only it could be used for the Dark Side—"

"Anakin!"

"I know, I—" Vader suddenly fell two feet into the ground, having walked directly into a synthetic patch of wetland.

"TWINS, DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE MY POWER," he roared, hoping that the two rascals could hear him. They were becoming increasingly talented at eluding his searches for them through the force.

"Never, honey, never," said Padmé, gripping her husband's underarms and helping to lift him out of the pit. He was sinking into it almost inextricably. His other niece, Ryoo, was giggling behind her sleeve.

"Don't make me—" he stopped short as one of his feet sank into the green sludge. "—KILL YOU!" Vader's lightsaber made short work of the surrounding area, not to mention plugging it with various items that had been littered close by. Atop the pile was a small model Jedi starfighter. Vader paused as he took note of the red paint, and promptly deactivated the lightsaber. Throwing out his other hand, he soon had both of the twins by the ears.

"You are beaten," he said with steely satisfaction.

Luke made a raspberry as his sister screamed in protest. Having given up all efforts to soothe relations between her natal family and her own, Padmé witnessed the scene before her and facepalmed.


End file.
